HMP Barlinnie Visiting the Prison Barlinnie is a large local prison, receiving prisoners from the courts in the west of Scotland. The prison houses male offenders, remand and convicted who are serving less than 4 years. There is also a national top end for offenders who are life sentence offenders approaching a potential release date. In recent years Barlinnie has taken prisoners from all over Scotland in order to facilitate the new building programme within the Scottish Prison Service. Below are some statistics- Average numbers in custody for 2013/2014 â 1305 Average 8,000 prisoner admissions per annum Average 4,500 liberations per annum Average 45,000 prisoner movements to Courts, transfers etc. Average 3,600 prisoner visits per month 6326 prisoner visitors per month 1,143 legal agents visits per month History - 1879 Purchase of the land. 1882 A Hall commissioned. 1887 C Hall commissioned and old gate completed. 1888 House for chaplain and doctor built outside gate. 1890 Link corridor A, B, C halls were built.

1892 D Hall Commissioned 1893 Chapel completed and perimeter extended to build E Hall. 1896 E Hall completed 1908 Old sheds built with alterations to E Hall. 1933 Alterations to D hall and new office block built adjacent to the gate. 1939 Gymnasium and (old) Library built. 1949 Handicraft workshop built. 1951 Dining halls were built. 1954 Old visits room completed. 1955 Female block built (closure of Duke St). 1960 Reception area reconstructed and V.T. introduced. 1968 New sheds complete. 1972 Special Unit in Female block (until 1994). 1983 Segregation Unit complete.

If you need to contact the prison, here are some useful numbers- Main switch board 0141 770 2000 Family Contact Officer 0141 770 2037 (FCO - The phone is not staffed at all times during the day, but there is an answer machine service so please leave your name and contact details and we will get back to you as soon as possible). Social Work Unit 0141 770 2123 Chaplains 0141 770 2059 If sending a letter to a prisoner, put their name, prison number and location, followed by the postal address e.g. 123456 S Smith By car from the east When travelling east on the M8 take exit at junction 12 Stepps and Riddrie. At the traffic lights turn right onto Cumbernauld Road (A80). After the library take the 1st left onto Teith Street, left onto Smithycroft Road, then first right onto Lee Avenue where the prison is located.

By car from the west When travelling west on the M8 exit at Junction 12, Stepps and turn left onto Cumbernauld Road (A80). After the library take the 1st left onto Teith Street, left onto Smithycroft Road, then first right onto Lee Avenue where the prison is located. Visitors can use the car park on the left as they come up the driveway to the prison. If there are no spaces in this car park then visitors will need to park on Smithycroft Road. The car park on the right is a restricted car park but the exception to this is at the weekend or in the evenings. Any person parked illegally will be asked to move their car. Barlinnie operates an illegal parking system. There are a limited number of disabled parking spaces available. Disable badges must be displayed. Visitors must not use the disabled parking bays unless they are displaying a current disabled parking permit/badge. By Train Please note there are no direct train services to Barlinnie. The nearest stations are at Alexandra Parade and Carntyne. Please plan your journey and you can contact Network Rail on 08457 114 141 or for information.

By Bus The most frequent bus to Barlinnie is the number 38. This service is operated by First Glasgow from Eastwood Toll through to Garthamlock. This service is especially useful for visitors using the rail network as it passes by both Queen Street and Central Stations based in Glasgow City Centre. The number 38C bus also passes the prison. Before starting any journey you are advised to check with the local bus operators on 0141 423 6600 or . Please note that First Glasgow buses operate an exact fare policy. For those unfamiliar with the exact location of the prison please exit the bus at Riddrie library and the cross the pedestrian crossing and walk up Lee Avenue, between the shops and the school. Convicted offender's visits are booked by the offenders and it's their responsibility to inform their families/friends of the date and time. They are entitled to not less than 2 hours in any 28 day period.

Remand visits at Barlinnie are booked by prisoner's families, calling the direct booking line on 0141 770 2109 (Weekdays 9am to 2pm, 3pm to 8pm / Weekend 9am to 1pm). Remand prisoners may have one visit per day Monday to Friday, if a visit is not taken everyday 1 may be taken at the weekend. Barlinnie Visit Timetable Below is a list of identification requirements, the times of visits session, depending on the location of the offender, facilities and what you can expect coming to the prison. To gain access to the prison for the purpose of visiting, you must have two forms of identification, one of which must be photographic ID. Entry to the prison will not be permitted without acceptable identification. The following examples shall be accepted as suitable for photographic ID purposes: Â· Valid Passport Â· Citizen/Validate UK Card Â· Senior Citizens Bus Pass The following examples shall be accepted as suitable for proof of address provided it is less than 3 months old: Â· Utility bill Â· Bank statement Â· Other letter from official source Official visitors require Identification cards. Agents are required to carry their Law Society of Scotland ID Cards.

Our family contact officers offer support and information to offenderâs families. They provide guidance and advice relating to any concerns or issues you may have about your family member during their time in custody. There is a referral box located in the visitorâs waiting area or speak to us directly. The Family Contact Team offer a range of programmes and activities for prisoners, and their families which include; family inductions, parenting courses, play and share visits, storybook dads and family events. The Croft Visitor Centre is based in the Atrium and Family Information Hub at HMP Barlinnie. The staff are Michele, Catriona, Nancy, Anne and Liene and they there to help with general information and sign-posting. They also offer assistance with travel expenses and photographic ID and help visitors to understand procedures at the prison. The Croft also has an information stand in Riddrie Library with leaflets, travel expenses and ID forms.

Monday - Friday 10.00 â 14.30 & 16:30 - 18:00 (staff permitting late evenings 18:00-20:00) Saturday OR Sunday 11.30 â 14.30 A contacts box for the Croft is available in the Atrium of the prison, Croft staff will get back to you within 3 working days. You can also get in touch by email: help@croftglasgow.org On arrival at Barlinnie for a visit There is a ramp for wheelchair access into the building and also a lift available to take visitors into the visit rooms. Everyone attending the prison for a visit must book in at the front desk, at least 15 minutes before the visit session starts. This is to allow sufficient time to process your details. On entering the main door of the prison, there is a front desk with prison officers staffing it. You will be required to present your identification to the staff. You will then be given a seat allocation for the visits room and then you will proceed to the visitors waiting area.

In the visitor waiting area there is a crÃ¨che, toilet facilities, a baby changing area is available and an information hub.Only loose change (no notes) can be taken to the visit room. Everything else including outside clothing, bags and valuables must be deposited in a locker. All visitors will be given a rub down search by a member of staff. At times, there may be the SPS Dog Unit operating at the visits â itâs nothing to worry about and you will be given instructions by the staff. If you have any concerns at all â please talk to a member of staff. If you have a baby with you, you can take a baby bottle with milk â no baby food or glass jars are permitted. After a short time in the waiting area, you will be taken upstairs into the visit room where you will be directed to your seat. Visitors will be asked to take a seat and the prisoners will then be brought in. The visit room has vending machines selling refreshments and confectionary.

There is a play area is staffed by Toybox, a volunteer organisation and are open - Daytime Monday/Tuesday/Thursday/Friday 18:15-21:00 Wednesday 17:00-21:00 Over and above normal visits entitlement Barlinnie runs Childrens Visits which are available to all prisoners and booked by them. These visits take place in a unique purpose built room, brightly coloured, cartoon themed room with a large soft play area, toys and library. The purpose of this visit is to encourage interaction and family bonding through play and activities. Places are limited to 10 per session and offenders are allocated 1 per month. Legal Visits by Video Link Click here for information on the Scottish Legal Aid Board web site for solicitors looking to register for and use video link technology to conduct meetings with their clients in custody. Handing in Property The offender will request from residential staff items that he wants handed in and a pro-forma will be completed. The offender will then send the pro-forma to the visitor and the visitor will bring in the items along with the pro-forma where they will checked when handed into the front desk. Only items on pro-forma will be accepted.

You can post in property for offenders, but the offender must have completed the pro forma prior to the items arriving. Mark the parcel for the offenderâs attention. Posting in Property You can post in property for offenders, but the offender must have completed the pro forma prior to the items arriving. Mark the parcel for the offenderâs attention. To ensure the parcel arrives safely, you can send it recorded delivery (cost incurred at the post office). Handing in Money You may deposit money for a prisoner at the cash desk located in the vestibule area. You are required to know the offenders full name and number and you will be issued with a receipt. There is a maximum limit of Â£50 for convicted offenders. There is no limit for remand prisoners, however large or irregular amounts of money will be reported to the appropriate authorities. Those handing in the cash will be asked to provide their name, address and relationship to the offender. We only accept cash.

Monday-Friday 9:00-20:00 Exclusive: Inside the locked-up world of Barlinnie (From Evening Times) / Linzi Watson , Senior reporter The Evening Times goes behind the bars at city's jail to see what life is like for its 1300 inmates Barlinnie is nestled in the residential suburb of Riddrie. About 1300 offenders of all categories - from those on short term sentences to killers - fill the cells. They are separated from the outside world, and neighbouring houses, by locked metal doors, stone walls and barbed wire. With kitchens, a laundry, clinics and workshops, everything the prison needs to function is contained within the walls, except for the constant stream of criminals who arrive in their dozens every week. Glasgow Sheriff Court, the busiest in the country, is the main provider. The first thing many visitors see is a courtyard with perfectly manicured lawns and colourful flower beds - tended to by inmates in the Barlinnie uniform of red polo shirts.

Governor Derek McGill said: "Trusted prisoners are given jobs within the prison, depending on their behaviour." Privileged duties include serving food and also taking part in volunteer projects - including an initiative that sees inmates sort and box donated glasses, which are then shipped to partially sighted people in India. One of these is Raymond, from the city's West End. The 44-year-old said: "I have been in jails across Scotland and Barlinnie is the 'fastest'." The repeat offender, who is serving an 18-month sentence for theft by housebreaking, added: "Prison is what you make it. "If you have been here before you know what you are coming in to. It is a bit harder for first time offenders." Raymond, who also takes part in support groups, said: "If I can't change the person that brought me here while I am in prison, it will be the same person who follows me out. "If I don't use all the opportunities I have in here to change then I won't. And no one else can do it for me." The prison's Day Centre runs daily classes, including literacy, numeracy and arts projects. There are also vocational training courses on offer.

Raymond had 11 crime-free years before getting into trouble again. His latest offence also coincided with him hitting the bottle after 11 sober years. He said: "I went to my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in prison in 1996. "When I got back out I kept away from alcohol and my life changed dramatically. "But my relationship broke down and I ended up in a pub." Mr McGill, 57, said: "Of the 1300 prisoners in here, 1200 will have been drinking at the time of their offence." "Everyone thinks drugs are the main issue in this part of Scotland. But drink is the big problem." Despite this, Barlinnie is also home to Europe's busiest methadone clinic. Up to 400 prisoners there are given the heroin substitute each day. The clinic is overseen by a medical team of 45, which includes nurses, five doctors and a dentist - whom Mr McGill joked is "the busiest man in the prison".

The governor said: "We are dealing with people at their lowest ebb, who might also be coming off their last hit." He said staff must be "non-judgmental" and all prisoners, from murderers to those who have committed minor crimes, were treated the same. Two nurses, working in pairs, assess them all at the time of admission. They are among the first people the prisoners meet after being booked in by reception staff and locked in a tiny holding cell or "dog box", as it is known among inmates, for 40 minutes. The medical assessment often uncovers long-running illnesses that have gone undiagnosed for years. Nurses and doctors in Barlinnie are currently caring for five men who are terminally ill. The inmates, who are thought to be just weeks from death, are often taken into the chapel, which sits between the prison halls. It hosts Catholic, Church Of Scotland, Church Of England and Islamic services every week. Mr McGill added: "Barlinnie is a busy, noisy place but you can find solitude in there. It is an oasis." Just a stone's throw away, however, is the B Hall cell block, which was destroyed in the riots of 1987.

Images of balaclava-wearing inmates on the roof of the building were broadcast around the world. Prison officers were taken hostage during the protest and B Hall was trashed when cells were stripped, fires lit and even floor tiles ripped up. Mr McGill, who was working in Dumfries Prison at the time, said: "We have a plan for every eventuality - if an alarm sounds the prison officers jump into action. "But times have changed in the prison service, it is not like it was. The period from 1987 to 1990 was when drugs had started making their way into prisons. "Prisoner on prisoner violence was a problem and there was a lot of disquiet among those who were unhappy about their treatment." Prison officer John McGhee said: "I came into the prison service in 1987 and I don't know why I stayed, it wasn't nice. "If you told a prisoner off you would be surrounded by other inmates. It is just not like that now. There is a much higher level of respect." As well as changes in treatment of prisoners - including, more recently, the abolition of slopping out - Barlinnie has seen the consequences of offending trends.

Mr McGill added: "The recession has led to more benefit fraud and crimes of theft and mugging. "The average age of criminals has also been driven up and we have sex offenders in their 60s, 70s, and 80s serving sentences for crimes they committed 30 to 40 years ago. "There are things you can do in here to help address the behaviour that led to offending and they can help pass the time. "But it is still hard, there is no doubt about that." linzi.watson@eveningtimes.co.uk The Barlinnie Story : Robert Jeffrey : 9781845023348 Add to basket Add to wishlist Description Barlinnie is one of the most notorious prisons in the world and for a hundred years it has held Glasgow's toughest and most violent men, swept up from the city streets. Ten men died on its gallows in the infamous Hanging Shed, including serial killer Peter Manuel. It has sparked rooftop protests and cell block riots, and been home to godfathers of crime like Arthur Thompson Snr and Walter Norval.

Barlinnie was also the scene of one of the most controversial experiments in penal history, the Special Unit, where the likes of Jimmy Boyle and Hugh Collins were at the centre of a fierce battle between those who see prison as retribution and those who regard it as a step on the road to redemption, even for the most evil killers. Paul Ferris, T C Campbell and gangleaders galore have languished behind its grim walls and, a hundred years on, Barlinnie still makes headlines. This is its fascinating, turbulent story. show more Product details 128 x 194 x 22mm | 199.58g Publication date Glasgow inmate John Clark accused of murder in Barlinnie prison - Wikinews, the free news source Glasgow inmate John Clark accused of murder in Barlinnie prison From Wikinews, the free news source you can write! Self-portrait of alleged victim Colin Penrose in 2011. Image: Colin Penrose. John Clark appeared at Glasgow Sheriff Court on Friday charged with murdering cellmate Colin Penrose, 22, in the city's Barlinnie prison .

Penrose, from the West Coast town of Oban , had been recalled to prison for alleged further offending after being paroled from a sentence for sexual assault against a teenager. Police Scotland confirmed they were called to the prison, Scotland 's largest, shortly after 2:00am on Thursday when Penrose was found dead in the cell. Clark has been remanded pending a full committal hearing next week. Clark is variously reported to be either 21 or 22. Penrose died on the top floor of the jail's E Hall. E Hall includes accommodation for vulnerable prisoners. Penrose, who attended Oban High School , is survived by his parents, both 60. He listed himself on Facebook as single but had liked a dating page, and according to his profile was seeking employment. "I hate football and I hate the police", his profile reads, adding he enjoyed a drink at the weekend. In early 2012 he uploaded a photo of himself with a swollen eye. Without explaining the injury he asked "does [anybody want] to say anything about my eyes in this picture or do [you not] give a shit [what] happens to me"?

He received no response until a year later, when the reply "thats what happens to beasts!!" was received. Several friends posted condolences to his page after his death. One claimed he had been strangled. The famous four-storey Victorian prison is routinely overcrowded, with prisoners sharing cells meant for individual use. With drug use at over 80% of the population, Barlinnie is Western Europe's largest dispenser of heroin substitute methadone . HMP Barlinnie from file. Image: Chris Upson. In 2011 governor Derek McGill complained "If we could eliminate overcrowding, we could do more with the prisoners." He was speaking after an inspector branded the facility unsafe for prisoners and staff alike due to chronic overcrowding. Scottish Executive spending cuts around the same time reduced the Scottish Prison Service 's building funds significantly. Plans are nonetheless afoot to replace Barlinnie with a new prison, to be called HMP Glasgow . The Prison Service is tendering for consultants to identify potential sites. Although the Scottish Government aims to reduce prisoner populations the new prison is to be more than twice the size of Barlinnie. The nation's sex offenders were, until recently, usually all held at Peterhead .

The internationally-acclaimed sex offender treatment center was permanently closed late last year and the inmates moved elsewhere. Peterhead prison has been replaced with the £ 140 million "super prison" HMP Grampian , built next door to the Peterhead site. Men, women, and young offenders are all held at the prison for the first time at a Scottish jail and the first inmates arrived this month. Aberdeen prison has also closed and been replaced with the new jail. Homicide behind bars is unusual in Scotland, though there have been cases in 2006 and 1996. Neighbouring England has seen a spate recently, including four last year. Those four deaths were all charged as murder and represented the highest England and Wales total since 1998. Have an opinion on this story? Share it!

Sources ‘Today Robert Burns might have been in Barlinnie Prison writing his jail diaries’ - The Scotsman Heroes ‘Today Robert Burns might have been in Barlinnie Prison writing his jail diaries’ The seldom seen painting of the 1787 Inauguration Of Robert Burns As Poet Laureate Of Lodge Canongate Kilwinning, which was known to be a hotbed of radicalism at this time. Under today's anti-terror laws, would Burns be charged with being a member of a 'proscribed group'? 02:47 Sunday 22 January 2012 Have your say If he were alive and writing today, Scotland’s national poet would be facing charges under modern anti-terror laws ROBERT Burns’ great song Scots, Wha Hae Wi’ Wallace Bled is considered by many to be an appeal for insurrection. It is not so much about Wallace and Bruce but about Burns using their example to incite the struggle against an increasingly tyrannical and corrupt government in London.

The last line “Liberty’s in every blow / Let us do – or die” is not only an incitement to direct violence, it also directly connects Burns with the armed revolutionary struggle then ongoing in France; “Let us do – or die” being the French revolutionaries’ battle cry Samina Malik, a shop assistant at Heathrow Airport, was the first woman to be convicted under the UK’s Terrorism Act 2000. She was charged with the crime of “possessing records likely to be used for terrorism”. Among these “records” were a number of poems inciting jihad. She was found guilty and sentenced, a judgment later overturned on appeal. The parallels between Burns and Malik are obvious: radicalised politics; associating with others of a like mind; connections with foreign terrorist groups and a call to insurrection. So how would Robert Burns, who styled himself a “son of sedition”, fare if he were to be judged by the standards of our current anti-terror legislation? Would we find him detained in Barlinnie Prison, languishing in solitary confinement and composing his jail diaries? If Scots Wha Hae could be indictable under our contemporary terror legislation, for what else might Burns have been prosecuted?

A comparison of relative civil liberties between two eras separated by a couple of centuries is difficult but there are parallels between Burns’ time and ours – one being that the British government conducted its first War on Terror during the 1790s. It was in France during the 1790s that the word “terrorist” was first coined to describe the extremes of the Revolutionaries. Burns was an ardent supporter of not only that revolution but also the American one of the previous decade. The British government of the time was deeply worried by the effect the French Revolution was having on the increasingly vociferous homegrown radicals. Among their demands was an independent, republican Scotland with a greater democratic mandate. Suffrage at the time was limited to landowners and they considered the government to be corrupt and the King, George III, to be tyrannical when he was sane enough. There were arrests, imprisonments, transportations and blacklistings. Burns was very close to many who suffered in all of these ways. The Terrorism Act 2000 redefined terrorism for us as “the use or threat of action where [that] threat is designed to influence the government...

for the purpose of advancing a political, religious [, racial] or ideological cause”. During 1793, the Scottish radicals stepped beyond the “threat of action” with riots breaking out in towns and cities up and down the east of Scotland. Chief among the groups held responsible for these outbreaks was one called the Society of the Friends of the People. The intellectual leader of the Scottish Friends was a Glasgow University-trained lawyer called Thomas Muir who was subsequently put on trial for sedition and sentenced to 14 years’ transportation. It was considered a show trial and marked the end of realistic constitutional reform. Muir was a close associate of many that Burns also knew, which brings us to another provision of our anti-terror laws and that is the creation of the “proscribed group” where the Home Secretary has the power to prohibit groups that he considers to be “concerned in terrorism”. To be a member of such a group or even to arouse reasonable suspicion that someone is a supporter of such a group is sufficient for a prosecution. Burns was closely associated with many groups that might well have been on a proscribed list. There is a seldom seen painting that hangs in the Museum of the Grand Lodge of Scottish Freemasonry in Edinburgh’s George Street.

Burns is standing before the assembled Brethren of the Lodge, Cannongate Kilwinning, on the night of the 1 March 1787, when he was invested as the Bard of Scottish Craft Freemasonry. The picture itself was not painted until 50 years after the supposed “investiture” but was not entirely an invention. In deciding who to include, the artist and the Grand Lodge had made use of the Lodge minutes for that particular night and other meetings, many of which Burns had attended. Sixty men, other than Burns, are shown; all real people, all Freemasons and all with a connection with Burns. But those very criteria, being a friend of Burns and being a Freemason, reveals something else that is extremely telling about the national poet: that many of them, close acquaintances of Burns, were also closely allied to the radical cause. Several of them made the journey to France to witness and learn from the Revolution at first hand. The Lodge that is shown is one of the oldest and most esteemed, and at this time was known to be a hotbed of radicalism.

There was, during this era, a strong connection between Freemasonry and radical politics; many thought that the principal architects of both the French and American revolutions had also been Freemasons. In his book Burns The Radical, Professor Liam McIlvanney explores the extent of Burns’ radicalism. If you cross reference the names of the men in the painting with those McIlvanney mentions as radicals you discover that 20 of them appear in both lists. These men were the leaders of Scottish society of the time – could the 20 have been the core of a republican Scottish government in waiting? The painting demonstrates that Burns was not only associating with those in “proscribed groups” under the 2000 Act, he was a member and right at the heart of their undertakings – in fact he was regarded as a spokesman for them. Expert legal opinion would seem to agree that Burns would have been prosecutable under the Terrorism Act.

Mark Muller Stuart QC, member of the Faculty of Advocates in Edinburgh, whose wife, Catherine, by coincidence is a direct descendant of the Earl of Buchan, one of the 20 radicals pictured with Burns, says: “It is therefore more than a little arguable that Burn’s may have found himself subject to prosecution for a range of offices under the Terrorism Act 2000. Whether such a prosecution would be successful is far less certain given own his inimitable advocacy.” In a corner of the painting is John Millar, Professor of Civil Law at Glasgow University, the intellectual leader of the radicals and Muir’s teacher. It has been suggested that this radical group also had in mind a leader for the new republican Scotland and that was Basil William Douglas-Hamilton, Lord Daer. Burns’ meeting with him is immortalised in the poem Lines On Meeting With Lord Daer. But the revealing mention of Daer by Burns is in another poem called The Scots Prologue in which he says, “Perhaps if bowls row right, and Right succeeds, / Ye yet may follow where a Douglas leads”. The “Douglas” is Daer and the “lead” is his leadership towards a reformed Scotland.

So we have Burns indicted on two charges under the Terror Act 2000, but there is a third. During his latter years Burns was working as an exciseman for the Customs authorities and during that time had acquired four small cannons from a wrecked ship. These he had sent to the French Revolutionary Council to aid them in their struggles. France at the time was a terrorist state and not only that it was offering to export its revolutionary terrorism to the peoples of any other country who cared to join them. Under the 2000 Act the “use or threat of action... which involves the use of firearms or explosives is terrorism” and the export of arms for terrorist purposes is an offence. So the charge sheet against Robert Burns consists of three charges: 1. Possessing records likely to be used for terrorism. 2. Being a member of a proscribed group. 3. The exporting of arms intended for use in terrorist acts. Would he have been found guilty under the Terrorism 2000 Act?

Well, that could only be speculation but what is worth considering is that in his own time he was never charged with any offence and that period is considered one of the most repressive periods in British history, and yet under our current legislation there would appear to be sufficient evidence to charge him with three separate offences and possibly a fourth, more recently added – “the glorification of terrorism”. The cosy, Victorian version of Burns’ life is that his politics were confused and ill-informed and that in the last three years of his life, following the government crackdown on the radicals, he recanted his “political heresies”. But the recent discovery by Professor Robert Crawford of a transcript of Burns’ last recorded conversation a few days before his death in July 1796, where he declares that he is still a “staunch republican” would suggest the exact opposite. The last three years of Burns’ life were deeply unhappy ones perhaps because he had watched his revolutionary dream wither and die, crushed under the brutal heel of the first ever War on Terror.

« • Alistair Fraser is a TV producer and writer with a long-standing interest in Robert Burns and his legacy Barlinnie prisoners could be forced to give up cigarettes as health chiefs look to make jail smoke-free zone - Daily Record News Barlinnie prisoners could be forced to give up cigarettes as health chiefs look to make jail smoke-free zone NHS Greater Glasgow and Clyde are to develop a "co-ordinated plan based on current evidence, staff and prisoner consultation to move to a smoke-free HMP Barlinnie." Share Barlinnie Prison (Photo: Tony Nicoletti/Daily Record) Share Get daily updates directly to your inbox + Subscribe Could not subscribe, try again laterInvalid Email INMATES at Barlinne prison could be forced to quit smoking. Health chiefs are trying to find a way to make the notorious Glasgow jail a smoke-free zone. Despite the smoking ban in public places coming into force in 2006, prisoners are allowed to light up in their cells. It’s believed 75 per cent are addicted to tobacco. But NHS Greater Glasgow and Clyde are to develop a “co-ordinated plan based on current evidence, staff and prisoner consultation to move to a smoke-free HMP Barlinnie ”.

The Smoking, Health and Social Care (Scotland) Act 2005 banned puffing in the likes of licensed premises and workplaces. But prison cells were deemed as private residences, making them exempt. The new strategy, backed by Glasgow City Council , could also see smoking banned in public play parks, across NHS and council premises and at some public events. A source said: “Banning smoking in Barlinnie or any other prison will take considerable time to achieve. We also have to balance this with prisoners’ rights. If you are in a hotel and want to smoke you can go outside. Clearly, that can’t be done if you are in a prison.” A spokeswoman for NHSGGC said they were working with the Scottish Prison Service to develop clear plans in time for next year. Like us on Facebook Most Read Most Recent Most Read Most Recent ‘This is not just a prison. This is Barlinnie’ - The Scotsman ‘This is not just a prison. This is Barlinnie’ Glasgow's Barlinnie Prison - inmates in the exercise yard.

Picture: Robert Perry PETER ROSS Have your say One hundred and thirty years old this July, Barlinnie has seen generations of offenders – many from the same families – traipsing through its heavy doors. But what does the future hold for this crumbling, overcrowded Victorian prison? And, more importantly, the inmates who consider it a home from home? BARLINNIE at dawn on a freezing February morning presents to the world a forbidding aspect, the brutal silhouette of its vast Victorian halls suggestive of a factory from the Industrial Revolution, albeit one in which the raw material and finished product are the same: men. An inmate visits the prison dentist. Picture: Robert Perry Bad men, some would say, and no doubt there are people in Scotland’s largest prison – the defilers of children, the tracksuited cleavers of flesh – to whom that old-fashioned word ‘wicked’ could be reasonably applied.

But there are many other prisoners who, one might argue, are victims themselves – of poverty, of poor parenting, of drug addiction – and who have ended up here, in part, because of the family and area in which they grew up; most of the 10,000 prisoners who pass through the prison each year come from the most impoverished postcodes in Glasgow. Though it looms large in the legend of the city, the prison remains a mystery to most citizens. Unless you live in the north-east of Glasgow, you might never in your life see even the brooding exterior, except perhaps for the blunt chimneys and barbed wire glimpsed from the motorway and soon forgotten. To walk freely inside its yards, halls and cells is a rare privilege that feels rather like visiting a national monument. As governor Derek McGill puts it, “This is not just a prison. This is Barlinnie.” McGill is a silver-haired 57-year-old whose navy pinstripes set him apart from his staff of 350 uniformed officers. He has come through the ranks, however, and is far from aloof.

For 18 months he has been in charge, and is as proud of his position as the ‘Guvnor’ mug on his desk suggests. He finds Barlinnie endlessly fascinating. “Right,” he says, “are you ready for a wee walk about?” Most of the prison population is held in five four-storey halls, the thick sandstone walls darkened and pitted with age. At the front of each block is a tall, arched window; above each main entrance is a painted crown. Inside, the brick walls are painted white, and the first impression is one of space and light; long vanishing points and a blue sky visible through the high glass canopy. Barlinnie Prison's inclusion manager David Marsh. Picture: Robert Perry The reception area is as hectic and cramped as the halls are airy. There are 74 prisoners leaving the prison for court appearances. Prisoners yet to be processed stare sullenly through the windows of the claustrophobic holding cubicles, known as ‘dog boxes’. A prisoner walks forward and has a metal-detecting wand swept over his body. Brian – a 37-year-old with pale jail skin, short dark hair and hollow eyes – is a veteran of the search process.

He has been in and out for years. This time he has been charged with serious assault. “I’m in for defending my property,” he says with stale defiance. “I was attacked in my house, but because I’ve had three previous convictions, here I am.” How does Barlinnie now compare with how it used to be? “Too cushy,” he says. “Too easy for the cons. It used to be that you respected the screws.” Brian is against having television in the cells. Some prison officers consider telly the best thing that ever happened in Barlinnie because it pacifies the prisoners, making them less likely to harm themselves and others. However, TV has also had a huge impact on the literacy of prisoners, which has knock-on effects with regard to rehabilitation and future employment. “I couldn’t read or write when I first came in here,” says Brian. “If I’d had the telly back then, I would never have learned.

I’ve managed to get a bit of intelligence about me now; not that you’d think so, with me still coming in and out of here at my age.” The majority of Barlinnie inmates have been charged with or convicted of thefts, breaches of the peace, drugs offences, sex offences and assaults of varying seriousness, with a little over half serving sentences of between one and four years. The prison also holds, in a small segregation unit, or – colloquially – the Wendy House, a few prisoners unable to mix with the general population, including high-ranking gangsters. Barlinnie’s intelligence unit helps officers decide which halls are the most appropriate to house particular prisoners; mortal enemies, rival gang members and those owing drug money to affiliates of dealers are kept well away from each other. It is similar to deciding where to seat bickering relatives at a wedding reception, albeit on a much large scale and with much bloodier consequences. The familial metaphor is apt. Incarceration in Barlinnie is dynastic. The prison has been home from home for three generations of some families. One prison officer says his father worked here for 35 years, locking up the fathers and grandfathers of the prisoners now in his custody.

There is a dismal sense of destiny about it all. Most prisoners are in their 20s. Just boys, really, in prison-issue jeans and red sweatshirts. Their cells, which measure about two metres wide by three and a half long, have bunks and glossy girly posters and are strongly redolent of teenage bedrooms; the small window, high on the back wall, is curtainless, but prisoners improvise with T-shirts and pillowslips, creating bands of red, white and blue or green, white and orange, depending on footballing allegiance. Many of the prisoners, perhaps most, will have been working up to Barlinnie, having first spent time in Polmont Young Offenders Institute. This is a grim post-industrial echo of the apprenticeship system. The young cons here are apprentices no longer; they are journeymen criminals whose scars mark their fraternity with that particular guild. That’s one of the first things you notice here – the scars. They zig-zag across faces unmarked by age, and carve their way through short hair like contour lines on a map. One lad has a thumb stitched where his nose should be, having lost it to a samurai sword.

New prisoners arrive daily with cuts and bruises, but it is possible to get hurt in Barlinnie itself. Since April 2010, there have been two serious and 15 minor prisoner-on-staff assaults, plus 53 serious and 56 minor prisoner-on-prisoner assaults. Weapons have been fashioned from sharpened forks and screws; a favourite piece of Barlinnie hardware is a toothbrush with two razor blades pressed into the melted plastic. “You can tell a jail slashing,” says McGill, “because you get a great big thick scar on your face, too wide to stitch properly.” Barlinnie’s atmosphere is a curious mix of tension, resentful boredom, melancholy and gallus gallows humour. “Haw!” shouts one young prisoner, Paul, trying to attract the attention of a passing officer. Paul is serving 27 months for assaulting a policeman and wishes to discuss a change to the dinner menu. “What’s happenin’ wi’ thae square sausages? Thae links are gonnae kill folk.” Not all exchanges are so amusing. In D Hall at lunchtime, a prisoner called James, a tall man with longish dark hair, becomes very angry all of a sudden.

“You’ve no got a f***in’ warrant to hold me,” he screams. “I know what happened to my family and girlfriend in here. You’re gonnae get me murdered.” He is bundled into his cell and the door locked. D Hall holds prisoners with mental health issues. Mostly, they are not so ill that they can be sectioned, but not well enough to be safely out in the community, so here they remain. The governor points out one disturbing, shambling figure in particular. “He set himself on fire a couple of weeks ago, and when they went in to get him out he attacked two firemen.” Stevie Geddes, an officer in E Hall, says the job requires constant vigilance. Many old hands among the staff were young officers at the time of the 1987 riot, and though the Barlinnie regime is now far less confrontational, the memory lingers of how quickly disorder can escalate. “We deal with some of the most violent people in Scotland,” says Geddes. “There was a member of staff assaulted in C Hall yesterday. We’ve had officers with broken jaws and all sorts.” Violence is commonplace in Barlinnie, only the severity varies.

Anything can cause a fight; the illicit trade in merchandise, for example, inflates both the price and perceived worth of items that, outside of prison, would be considered disposable. “A tenner bag of heroin in here is worth £60,” Geddes explains. “The going rate for a mobile phone is £1,000. A Mars Bar to you and I is 40p; in here, it’s high stakes.” Drug use is rife. Prevalence testing suggests that 82 per cent of those admitted to Barlinnie are on drugs; on release, 10 per cent fail a test for illegal drugs. Narcotics get into the prison in various ways. A small bag of heroin may be passed from mouth to mouth during a visiting time kiss. Less romantically, a drug user attending court and believing that he is going to be sent to Barlinnie will often hide a mobile phone and as much heroin as possible up his back passage, a part of the body known to prisoners as ‘the bank’.

Packages containing drugs also come over the perimeter wall, sometimes fired by crossbow or catapult, during daily exercise; if the prisoner for whom it is intended is lucky, he will be able to lift it before the officer notices. There are also prison officers who will bring drugs and other items into Barlinnie – either because they are well paid to do so, or because they are too frightened to say no. McGill loathes such betrayals – “I don’t like it when they sell us out for the other side” – and has taken measures to toughen up security screening of staff. A daily ritual at Barlinnie, a sort of profane communion, is the dispensation of the heroin substitute methadone. Prisoners who have a prescription before coming to prison continue to receive it inside at the same dosage. Barlinnie is the biggest single-site dispenser of methadone in western Europe – 400 or so prisoners receive it every morning, adding up to around 8,700 litres (over 15,000 pints) of the green liquid each year.

Prisoners are brought to the waiting room of the clinic ten at a time and each in turn goes up to the hatch to receive his dose from the nurse. After swallowing, each prisoner must also drink a cup of water. This is to prevent them from holding the drug at the back of the throat then subsequently hawking it up to sell – a practice known as ‘the methadone spit’. Talk to any random selection of prisoners in Barlinnie and the chances are that most will have become involved in theft or violence because of their addiction to drugs or alcohol or both. What you hear again and again is that prison, for chronic addicts, is a safe place. They can detox, get fed, stay alive for a while longer. “Jail saved my life,” says David, 47, serving three years for head-butting a drug dealer. “The only time my ma could sleep at night was when I was in here. She knew I wouldn’t be found with a needle in my arm.” Big Mick, 42, used to be a security guard, but since his mid-30s, when he split from his wife and children, has been lost in drink.

He has had 17 sentences for shoplifting in the last seven years. This time he is in for four months. He finds it impossible to stay sober outside prison. “I see the pain it is causing my ma and da, but the only time I can stop is in here.” When he is released, he intends to commit further crimes – and get caught – so he is sent to Barlinnie again. He is not the only prisoner who admits to this strategy. Statistics show that around 90 per cent of those prisoners currently inside will return in future. Some hardly get further than the three off-licenses at the bottom of the street. The last prisoner to commit suicide here was on his 50th stretch and was only 32. “I think he’d just had enough,” says Governor McGill. “They cannot break the cycle of offending. People blame the prison service for that, but we deal with them as best we can. I think we do a great job. Look at what we do with work, with prisoner programmes, getting people off their drugs, getting them to put on weight again. By and large, they turn their life around when they are in here. But what we don’t do is go out the door with them.

“I know people will talk about a 90 per cent failure rate because the prisoners keep coming back, but it’s not my failure rate, or the Scottish Prison Service’s failure rate, it’s society’s failure rate because there’s not enough outside the prison walls.” Barlinnie is in many ways a microcosm of society, and its members have the same everyday needs – both physical and spiritual. There is a church in the prison grounds, a barber, a dentist and a gym. Services are held every Sunday and 250 haircuts are given each week. The widespread use of methadone, which dries the mouth and encourages tooth decay, is one reason why the dentist, Dr Kieran Fallon, is often described as the busiest man in the prison. The kitchen, meanwhile, serves up 1.5 million meals a year, including porridge, of course, and is staffed in large part by Chinese and Vietnamese migrants caught during police raids on cannabis factories. The prison laundry, too, is staffed by inmates, specifically the sex offenders. The mainstream prisoners would not tolerate their food being prepared by the ‘beasts’ of the jail, but find it acceptable that they wash and iron their clothes.

Also, according to the governor, they are simply very good at the job; there is, apparently, something in the psychology of a sex offender that makes him neat and fastidious. Seeing these pale, plump, watchful, hateful, sad-eyed men folding bedsheets is just one of the many remarkable, troubling things about Barlinnie. Come July, the prison will have been open for 130 years. Built to hold 1,018 prisoners, it has rarely done so, and is almost always massively overcrowded. There are, at present, around 1,500 prisoners in Barlinnie, most of them sharing cells built for single occupancy. The population is seasonal. Christmas and summer are relatively quiet. From August onwards, the number increases rapidly, and last year reached its highest ever level – 1,786. When Low Moss prison opens on the outskirts of Bishopbriggs next month, it is likely to offer Barlinnie some brief respite, but McGill does not believe it will be a long-term solution. “Judges know when Barlinnie’s not full, and all of a sudden remand numbers increase,” he says.

The 2008 Scottish Prisons Commission noted that high prison populations are more likely to “drive reoffending than reduce it” and favoured community-based sentences over short jail terms. The result is that Barlinnie now has far fewer prisoners serving less than six months, but the prison actually has more prisoners altogether. It would appear that remanding a prisoner in custody, awaiting trial, is being used to take troublemakers out of communities for up to 140 days, without imposing the politically difficult short sentences. The significant downside is that there are so many – right now, around 550 – men being held in prison for quite long periods without having been tried for any crime. Overcrowding is a problem because it means a large proportion of the prison population cannot access work placements education, or many of the rehabilitative programmes that are supposed to help them change into useful members of society while inside. According to the most recent inspection, on average 70.4 per cent of the population is locked up in cells instead of being on purposeful activity. Prisoners can spend up to 23 hours a day locked up with a cell-mate – or ‘co-pilot’ – they loathe.

Physical fights in these circumstances, prisoners say, are a daily occurrence. What, then, is the future of this Victorian jail in the 21st century? The chief inspector of prisons, while noting that the institution is well led and run, and drawing particular attention to the excellent care prisoners – often frightened and despairing – receive during their first night in custody, has called for its redevelopment as soon as possible. McGill himself believes that by 2020 the present buildings will have fallen out of use and a new prison built nearby. Barlinnie’s own long stretch is, it seems, coming to an end. “It would be sad to see it demolished completely,” says the Governor. “There’s a huge amount of history here. You could imagine them running tours. This could be the Alcatraz of Glasgow. I think even the prisoners would be sorry to see this go. Places like Polmont don’t have any atmosphere. Barlinnie has got a lot of life.” A lot of life and, despite the odds, a lot of love. By 5pm, there is a long queue for visiting. It’s almost all women: dolled-up wives and girlfriends; sorrowful mums and grannies.

One lad catches the eye – maybe six years old, cute in his crewcut and best tracksuit, walking round in slow, bored circles, heel-to-toe, swinging a key for the prison locker, familiar already with the rules of visiting. How many birthdays, you wonder, has his father missed, and how many to come? And here’s the most dreadful question of all: will that wee boy, too, one day end up here or in whatever prison replaces it? Barlinnie, every groan and dirty stone of it, has a habit of weighing down the mind with such fatalistic thoughts. So, as fascinating as it has been, it is a relief to finally leave the prison and walk out into the cold dusk, a half-moon rising high and pure and free above those grimly iconic chimneys.

Question: In which British city would you find Barlinnie prison?
Answer: Glasgow